


Until It Sleeps

by SecondHeartbeat (Epictry)



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Angst, Angsty Schmoop, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, PTSD, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-04
Updated: 2012-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-30 13:52:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epictry/pseuds/SecondHeartbeat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short drabble about sleepless nights, love and vague symptoms of PTSD. Title from Metallica, Until It Sleeps, because I am unoriginal like that.</p><p>As with all the fic I write about these two, it wouldn't be possible if Mary Contraire didn't blaze a path writing her amazing stories. When I write a really good one it's getting gifted to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until It Sleeps

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marycontraire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marycontraire/gifts).



Christeson dozed fighting against sleep reclaiming him. He had woken up not long after falling asleep. It happened more than he would like to admit or think seriously about. Little noises that had never woke him up in his entire life, now brought him wide-awake. He would look around and usually put his head back to pillow and drift back to sleep until the next odd sound woke him. He fought against sleep because watching Evan beside him sheets pulled up to his neck and held tight in Evan’s clenched hands, was not a sight he sees often. 

When they go to bed, side by side, they are usually cuddling or at least relaxed and splayed out moving in on the others’ unspoken territory. He’s not rail thin at all. He has probably got less than 7% body fat and the whole of his body is condensed into firm and sculpted muscle. When he wears baggy jerseys and sagging jeans, he seems like every other scraggly white boy trying to play thug. Christeson knows that beneath the fashion challenged disguise is disturbing strength. So it’s odd watching him balled up with the sheet clenched in his fists and pulled up to his neck.

John sits up and strains his vision in the darkness to find the edges of the heavier blanket. John tolerates the cold a little too well, but Evan usually has a quilt, still too used to the heat and humidity in Florida or Iraq. John feels around near his knees and lifts the edge of the fluffy comforter dragging it up the bed and resting it gently over Evan, pulling it up to his hands gripping the sheet. He leans back on his elbows and watches Evan for a minute, looking over his chin and the faint stubble that would be darker and longer in the morning. He has soft lips, John knows that already, but they looked full and pink even in the dark bedroom.

Evan stirs, sinking down a bit underneath the new warmth of the comforter. He makes a low murmur, like a purr almost, and rolls to his side, facing John but still asleep. John rolls off his elbows to his side, so he is facing Evan and before he has time to think twice, he reaches out and drags his finger tips along the curve of Evan’s cheek. Evan pulls from the touch, pressing the other side of his face deeper to the pillow, his unconscious defense against waking up. John inches forward closer to Evan and drapes his arm around Evan’s waist, eliciting a low grumble.

“Mm, baby. You cold?” Evan asks slurring from sleep and half his face submerged in pillow.

“Yeah,” John lies.

He is anything, but cold. In fact, his pulse is speeding up and his face is heating up as he lays beside Evan. Evan uncurls the fingers of one hand from the hem of the sheet and tugs up the comforter, trying to fluff it enough to cover John. He sighs, put out by the amount of energy it takes to make that gesture. John pulls his arm from Evan, pulls the comforter up to his shoulders and reaches to Evan beneath cupping his hip before sliding his hand to the small of Evan’s back.

Evan purrs again and snakes his hand across the sheet, touching John’s shoulder, dragging his tired limp fingers down his arm to his elbow. He hefts out a breath and sinks heavier into the pillow and John can feel him relaxing. He watches Evan’s lips parted and hears his breath coming from nose and mouth. He wants to steal a kiss, but he does not want to disturb Evan from sleep he obviously needs. If he had wanted to play, he would not have drifted back off.

He stays still and watches Evan, well on his way back to dreaming, and just thinks how much he loves him. He cannot count the number of ways he has changed since this began. He realizes that he did not even know what being serious about someone would look like until he got into this relationship. Joining the Corps had ushered him into being an adult, but bedding down with a Corporal, going against DADT, going against the tradition of not sleeping with someone of the same sex, and breaking a lot of Indiana girls hearts by going off the market, had hammered the reality of being a grown up to home. It sucked not being on speaking terms with his parents. It sucked having his sisters behave awkwardly for about two years unsure if they could say ‘that’s so gay’ without being offensive.

John really wants to whisper platitudes about how much he truly loves Evan Stafford, but it is more creepy than romantic to whisper sweet nothing to someone unconscious while watching them breathe. Therefore, he just thinks about it, shuts his eyes, and listens to the sounds of Evan sleeping. He knows Evan has to be awake at 6:30 and off to work by 7:30 to get there by 8:00. John is reasonably sure that he has nailed down having a position that will keep him on base in Oceanside and not activated. It is the best he can do so far, but they both want to move and get the hell out of California before it completely tanks financially or breaks off into the ocean for good. He could just get out like Evan, but he is a lifer through and through. If he can just climb the ranks to get somewhere that his intelligence will be of use, it might actually all be worth it.

Now, he can figure out why he wakes up to every noise. He shut his eyes and draws in closer to Evan, sinking down and pressing his forehead to Evan’s chest. Evan makes a noise between a growl and a grunt and raises his arm blindly, dropping it so he has a grip around John. It does not fix anything for good, but it is enough to ease him back to sleeping, maybe. He hopes it does not make him too weak that he needs this to get back to sleep. He does not want to talk about it in the morning over coffee or hear anymore about therapy. Having to cuddle to fall sleep is not the worst thing that has happened thanks to PTSD.

 


End file.
